


Son of The Clan

by American_Pandora



Category: Earth's Children - Jean M. Auel
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, F/M, Gen, implied past Broud/Ayla I’M SORRY, it is CANON TYPICAL, just pain, no sunshine rainbows or unicorns in this story, nothing mature yet but there will be
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-06-09 16:00:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19479241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/American_Pandora/pseuds/American_Pandora
Summary: Ayla has left after being cursed to death once more- this time, by Broud. Forced to leave her son behind, Durc must battle for standing in a Clan where tradition and conformity is everything. Named for the figure in a fable, Durc has to decide what he wants in his story- will he stay with Broud’s Clan, forever looked down upon by the leader, or will he take inspiration from his name and become his own legend?





	1. Part I: Aftershocks | Chapter 1: Changes

**Author's Note:**

> This is a WIP I’ve had for awhile, and I’ve finally gotten brave enough to post it. I ADORE the Earth’s Children series, and I was always slightly peeved with the lack of follow up we got for Durc. Seeing as he is one of Ayla’s biggest ghosts and motivators throughout the series, I thought it only fair that he get his own tale. This is my take on Durc. I hope you enjoy- please feel free to leave feedback either here on ao3 or on my tumblr (link at bottom).
> 
> **This is a quick warning that this story does follow _canon typical situations_ , such as violence, rape, cannibalism and hunting animals. I’ll warn you before every chapter, but please take this in to accountability.**
> 
> **I own nothing but the original characters and am making no profit from this work.**
> 
> **Enjoy!**
> 
> **xx, AP**

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the face of catastrophe, Brun’s Clan must move forward. Except they’re _not_ Brun’s Clan anymore, they’re Broud’s. Faced with the daunting prospect of untested leadership, the Clan scrambles to pull themselves together after upheaval.

###### 

Part I: Aftershocks

## 

Chapter 1: Changes

  
  


“Maama, Maaama, Maamaaa!”  
Durc cried out as his Mama, his Mother of all Mothers, walked beyond the ridge, the last rays of morning falling softly on her golden hair.

Uba held on tightly to the son of her sister- no, Durc was her son now, Broud had made it so before he doomed them all- before another wave of grief overcame her so strongly she could no longer stand on her own two feet. 

Only it was not just her. Another aftershock sent Aba, Ebra and Zoug flying to the ground; everyone else had enough frame of mind to crouch down. A rumbling noise in the distance sent shivers of fear throughout the minds of the Clan. Something that loud usually meant no good- an avalanche, or a stampede. It was a sound ingrained in to their psyches as something bad, something dangerous.

Gradually, the threat passed. The tree leaves stopped shaking as violently, and the sound of distressed forest life settled. 

Instinctively, the Clan looked at Brun- their leader. But Brun would not look at them. They could tell he was fighting the urge to do so- the muscles in his thick neck were visible, and his fists clenched so tightly they had changed colors. The most telling sign, however, was that his deep, Clan eyes were screwed so tightly shut Uba briefly thought she might have to lubricate them with fat to get them open again. Slowly, bewilderingly and almost unwillingly, the Clan turned to look at Broud. 

Brun had experience on his side- he had led them through the earthquake that had lost them their first cave nearly a decade ago. But he was clearly unwilling or unable to do so now. 

Broud looked around confusedly as the eyes turned to them. ‘ _What do they expect me to do?_ ’ He thought to himself angrily. ‘ _I can’t control what the spirits did. It’s obvious that ugly woman unleashed some forbidden magic to make me look bad in front of the Clan. She probably learned it from the evil ones during her first death curse. It’s her fault. It’s always her fault._ ’

Lost in his temper and unaware of the passage of time, Broud was ignorant to the rising tensions of the Clan. Brun was not, though, and neither was Goov. 

Goov could not help but feel responsible for all the misfortune that had occurred. _He_ was the one who had replaced Creb as Mog-ur for Brun’s Clan, knowing he would never amount to the great power of The Mog-ur. _He_ was the one who had set the death curse that had angered the spirits so badly they destroyed their home, even though he hadn’t wanted to. _He_ was the one who did not stop his mentor from going in to the cave, despite the feeling of extreme foreboding he had experienced. Yes, as the interpreter of spirits for Brun’s Clan- and Goov gave the mental equivalent of a stumble as he realized he still thought of the Clan as _Brun’s_ \- he must fix this. 

Stepping forward, the new Mog-ur spoke the false leader’s name word aloud. “Broud.” Twenty-one pairs of deep brown eyes swung toward Goov, including Broud’s volatile pair. Taking a deep breath, Goov gestured, “This man would return to the place of spirits and return the evil ones necessary for the death curse to their rightful place; this man would then commune with the Spirits of the Clan. This man may need the help of some hunters to scavenge whatever is rescuable from the place of spirits.” Normally, such a bold hint- one not even attempted to be hidden in nuance- would be highly frowned upon, but these were not normal times, and Goov was willing to face any sort of repercussions.

For a moment, Broud just stared at him, before nodding his head. “You are a good Mog-ur, Goov, to anticipate your leader’s wishes. You may go to the place of spirits- take Brun and Zoug with you, in case you need help moving stones out of the way. All other hunters,” Broud gestured wildly, agitation clear in his body language though he tried hard to hide it, “you are to see how bad the damage to the cave is, and start taking stock of our food supplies and scavenging what can be scavenged from the hearths. The women will start a meal, and prepare our traveling supplies.” 

‘ _No, no, no,_ ’ Brun thought desperately, ‘ _it is the women who should take stock of our food supplies and scavenge from the hearths while the men prepare the traveling supplies! Oh, Broud, you were old enough when that first earthquake hit; you were nearly a man. Son of my mate, did you pay no attention at all? Did you ever think to learn anything from me?_ ’

Uncertain with their tasks- yet unwilling to challenge a leader who had already proven himself unworthy and unstable- the members of the Clan set off to try to piece together their lives.


	2. Part I: Aftershocks | Chapter 2: Advice, Allies & Introspection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goov, Brun and Zoug talk about recent events; Goov makes a discovery with terrifying implications. Meanwhile, Vorn struggles to find his footing amidst all this change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! One week later and I have delivered another chapter. One of my goals in this story was to focus not just on Durc’s story, but the societal fabric of the Clan itself. I delve in to that a bit here. I’ve also decided to divide the story in to Parts. These are the general themes of that segment of chapters- basically, mega chapters. Part I is appropriately titled Aftershocks. 
> 
> As always, read and let me know what you think! 
> 
> xx, AP

###### 

Part I: Aftershocks

## 

Chapter 2: Advice, Allies & Introspection

  
  


Goov moved slowly toward the place of spirits out of respect for Brun and Zoug, though he wanted nothing more than to run like a boy. The place of spirits had always been a place of isolation, of _safety_ , where his mentor’s firm guiding hand could be found. The place of spirits had never felt foreboding when Creb was there with him.

It had felt extremely foreboding this morning, as he cursed The Woman Who Hunts with death. He should have known. _He should have known._ He had known, in truth. It was wrong, what he did, and he had known that. But his memories, his teachings, had all told him a Leader would never make the decision to curse someone with death so superfluously. So Goov had trusted his leader. 

It had damned them all- Goov was sure of it.

There was a tap on his shoulder- Goov’s hands stilled. The young Mog-ur had been unknowingly broadcasting his angst to his fellow hunters. “Goov,” Brun gestured, “this was not your fault. You could not have known.” 

“I am Mog-ur. I should have known.” Goov signed agitatedly, but as he went to say something more, Zoug interrupted in a way that, on a normal day, would have been rude. “No, Goov, it is not your fault. If fault is to be assigned, it lies rightfully at Broud’s feet. The woman,” Zoug had to work to omit Ayla’s name, not wanting to summon a spirit who had already once walked the world of spirits and returned to the living, “was always lucky. It was clear she was favored by the spirits; she was the one who found the Cave. It is not hard to understand why they would destroy her gift to us after she was unfairly cursed with death.” Zoug’s fondness for the ugly girl, like a man might have for a daughter or even a sibling, shone through in his statement; as did his grief and loss, though they were well hidden.

Such an honest discussion of faults and spirits was highly unusual among the men of the Clan, who were always in control and stoic to the point of seeming nearly emotionless. When such discussions did happen, they occurred well out of the sight of women, and were usually only slightly more passionate; they were still, always, just as in control. To speak so openly of these things was an indication of the men’s inner turmoil. 

Goov was saved from having to respond to Zoug’s observation by entering the mouth of the Cave. 

Rocks were strewn across the cave haphazardly. Creb’s hearth looked like it had been ransacked. Goov’s mind brought forth the image of Ayla with her collecting basket and traveling tent slung on her back, before firmly pushing the thought away. The Woman Who Hunts was dead. He had set the curse himself. 

He would need to burn the rest of her things so she was not tempted to come back. He would need to take care of Creb’s body, too, and conduct a ritual to appease the angry spirits. Goov’s mind wandered, absentmindedly listing all the things he would need to do.

As he passed the back of the cave, he saw Creb curled like a child next to Iza’s cairn. Boulders lay all around The Mog-ur, but the only one that had dared to strike the holiest of men was the one that had ended his mentor’s life. So awesome was The Mog-ur’s power that, even in death, the spirits the man had once commanded had not let the falling rocks touch the medicine woman’s resting place. Creb had always loved his sibling more than anything else in the world; Goov found it fitting that such affection would carry on even in to the afterlife.

Passing the rest of the hearths- including his own, where a large stone laid upsettingly close to Ovra’s sleeping furs- Goov walked to the back of the Cave, where the place of spirits was. He reached the partition that acted as a marker for where the place of spirits began, and was unable to walk back any further, for large boulders blocked the entrance. Only a bit of the area was accessible- it would take a child to crawl back there. 

The implications of this all hit the holy man at once. The evil ones must have sealed off the room while the Clan’s spirits were busy showing their people their displeasure, in hopes that maybe Mog-ur would be unable to access the room, and thereby, to contain them. To not send the evil ones back would spell doom, not only for Brun- _Broud’s_ \- Clan, but for the entirety of the Clan of the Cave Bear everywhere. 

After all, it was Ursus’s own bones that were used to set a Death Curse. 

Only a mog-ur or his acolyte could be exposed to the evil ones safely. It would take all of the young Mog-ur’s skill and memories to even think of trying to make a protective charm strong enough to fight back the evil ones. Goov knew he would not fit through the hole, and he had no acolyte- he had not even thought about who he might choose as an acolyte, for he was relatively young yet, and a selfish part of his heart hoped Ovra might yet bear a child and he could name the son of his mate as acolyte.

The two men Broud had assigned to help him with his task caught up with him, his legs having started to run to the place of spirits once he passed the upsetting sight of his hearth, his sense of urgency increasing. All three hunters stared blankly at the cut off entrance, though only Brun- sparingly- and Goov could grasp the significance of the sight.

“Brun, this man would ask advice of the former leader.” Goov gestured, adding in the nuances that told Zoug that, while he was welcome to contribute should he have a good idea, this question was mostly aimed at Brun. Brun nodded, and indicated that the young man should continue. 

“Besides Mog-ur, only an acolyte of a mog-ur may safely enter the place of spirits when the evil ones have been called forth. I have no acolyte, and it is dangerous for the evil ones to be unleashed longer than they absolutely must be, since the spirits are displeased with us already. Borg is a man already, even if he is young, mated and with a child soon to be born to his hearth. Even if he weren’t, he wouldn’t have the disposition for the mantle. Brac is to be future leader, and a man cannot be mog-ur and leader. Groob has a talent for tools, and Droog has already started the boy’s apprenticeship. Igra is a girl-child. This leaves only Grev... and Durc.” Mog-ur said aloud the last name hesitantly.

Brun had grasped the implication as soon as Goov had said he had no acolyte, but it was not until Durc’s name word was said that Zoug understood. “Broud will be angry if you make Durc acolyte.” Zoug summed up. Brun nodded his ascent at Zoug’s summary, adding, “It is not normally done, that the brother of the future leader is chosen as an acolyte of Mog-ur. More often than not, leaders make their brother’s second-in-command, or their female sibling’s mate. Creb was chosen because Ursus himself had made his wishes clear.”

The three men huddled together in consultation and discussion, unwilling to bring the matter to Broud’s attention; all three men knew he could not be trusted to make a rational decision where Durc was concerned.

* * *

Durc was trying to help Vorn- who was now the man of his hearth, Mother Uba had gently explained, even though just this morning Creb had been the man of his hearth- when the small rocks and pebbles beneath him gave way. The callused skin that lined the feet of all Clan members- even the children- was unable to find any sort of traction or grip on the unstable hillside that had been shaken and rearranged.

“Ahh!” Durc cried out as he slid down the hill, the few sticks of firewood he had gathered clattering to the bottom as his hands scrambled for purchase, for _anything_ to grab on to or steady himself on. The flailing through his center of balance off even more, causing him to tumble backwards feet over head.

“Durc!” Vorn bellowed, letting go of his own firewood and skidding down the rocky face with more controlled momentum to help the son of his mate. Uba loved Durc- and though Vorn would never admit it, he loved Uba, and had since they were children playing at mates. He had volunteered to take Durc to relieve Uba’s pain, and the pain of her odd, ugly sister. Nothing had gone as planned, though, and he almost regretted taking only the boy and not the woman as well. Uba would not have minded, he knew, even if it would have brought Broud’s disfavor upon him.

Either way, Durc was the son of his mate, now. Uba loved this strange, deformed boy. He would protect him with every fiber of his being as though he had been born to his hearth in the first place. He would teach him to hunt, and everything else a man should know.

The son who had been born to the Woman Who Hunts landed in a crumpled pile at the base of the hill, atop a pile of loose stone and small boulders. Vorn was alarmed to see blood. ‘ _Did Broud order the boy death cursed while I was away? Would he?_ ’ A cold sweat had just set upon his brow when Vorn got to the bottom- and stopped. 

For the boy lay crumpled, sprawled out at the base of the rocky face. Blood flowed freely from multiple scrapes along the boy’s legs and arms, and a fair amount gushed from a cut on the boy’s forehead. But the most astonishing thing was the object clutched in the boy’s right hand.

The small skull of a baby cave bear lay clutched in Durc’s left hand.

Vorn was a simple man. He knew how to hunt well, how to make leathers and furs and butcher animals in the most efficient way. He loved his mate, and hoped for children to be born to their hearth. He did not know how to lead men as the second-in-command. He did not know the way of spirits, or the mysterious ways in which Ursus operated.

But at that moment, as the son of his mate lay bleeding, after a long and traumatizing day, Vorn knew the future of Broud’s ( _Brun’s_ , his heart still whispered) Clan- perhaps the entirety of the Clan- lay in the hands of Durc. 

Where the thought came from, he did not know. He could attribute it only to Ursus, or his totem, the Spirit of the Dhole.

And though Vorn did not know the ways of spirits or Ursus, he did know that Ursus would never have let a boy with bad luck come across the bones of one of his siblings. ‘ _The boy is good luck, like his mother. I will be as good to him as though he had been born to my mate._ ’

As Vorn reached down to pick up the injured boy, something caught his eye. A stone that glittered like gold lay near the boy’s head. Vorn’s heart raced. There was only one thing this could be- a sign, from the Spirit of the Dhole. His quiet vow had pleased his totem.

Gingerly, Broud’s second leaned down to pick up the stone, hiding it away in a fold in his wrap so he might put it in his amulet later. With a tenderness and care many would not have thought such a proud hunter capable of, Vorn scooped up Durc’s surprisingly sturdy frame to carry back to Uba, placing the Cave Bear skull on the boy’s chest. 

‘ _Ursus, please let the boy be alright._ ’ He pled silently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m looking for a beta reader, if anyone wants the job! Come talk with me over on my tumblr if you’re interested in applying or want to yell about Earth’s Children with/at me. 
> 
> https://american-pandora.tumblr.com/


	3. Part I: Aftershocks | Chapter 3: the bones of Ursus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goov brings his need of an acolyte to Broud. In the meanwhile, Ursus intervenes.

###### 

Part I: Aftershocks

## 

Chapter 3: the bones of Ursus 

  
  


Broud scowled as the Clan moved gingerly throughout the scavenged remains of their home. ‘ _They don’t think I can see them, but I can. They blame me! They’ll see. I’ll find a cave even better than this one, that will please the spirits even more. This is all that woman’s fault. Soon, they will see._ ’ 

“Broud!” Brun called out the son of his mate’s name word. “Mog-ur is looking for you.” When Brun had been leader, it was widely understood that what this phrase truly meant was ‘ _this man has a question for you._ ’ However, Broud seemed to take it as though Goov had been physically searching for the him. The man sneered. “Is Mog-ur going blind? I’ve been right here this whole time.” 

‘ _Yes, son of my mate, you have._ ’ Brun thought, shoulders drooping. ‘ _You have not helped your hunters at all this afternoon._ ’

“Uba may check my eyes later, but this man does not think he is going blind.” Goov appeared from the mouth of the cave and gestured, neatly sidestepping Broud’s nasty remark. “This Mog-ur would seek the opinion of the Leader.” 

Puffing up his chest in importance, Broud gestured for the man to continue. “The tunnel to the place of spirits is blocked. None of the rocks can be moved. There is a child sized opening near the top of the rocks. If I had an acolyte, I could send him in to wrap a strap around the largest of stones. But I do not have an acolyte, and so...”

“Why do you need an acolyte?” Broud interrupted, eyes missing the way Brun cringed as the son of his mate cut off Mog-ur. “Just send Brac.” 

“Only a Mog-ur or his acolyte may safely enter the place of spirits when the evil ones have been released. The acolyte receives a blessing from Ursus upon accepting the mantle of spirits. If anyone else were to enter the place of spirits, they would be in danger of having their totem devoured by the evil ones.” 

Broud paled. For someone’s totem to abandon a Clan member was the worst thing that could happen. ‘ _The evil ones can devour a man’s totem?_ ’ Broud thought, troubled. He experienced a rare moment of empathetic insight. ‘ _Just what did I expose the Clan to?_ ’ The memory of Brun debating with all his hunters before choosing to ban Ayla with the temporary death curse, and the protection rituals Creb had done for the Cave beforehand, reappeared in his mind. As quickly as the insight had appeared, however, it was gone, like smoke on the wind. Broud’s narcissistic personality simple could not comprehend, could not allow, that he may have been wrong. ‘ _It was worth it. Besides, Goov probably did the protection rituals of the Clan in private. There is no need to worry._ ’ Still, Broud clutched at his amulet and gave a quick supplication to his totem, the Spirit of the Wooly Rhinoceros. 

Realizing that Goov was still waiting for a reply, Broud signed with tones of condescension, “It sounds like you had better choose an acolyte then, Mog-ur.” 

Goov took a deep breath. “The only eligible candidates are the son of your mate, Grev... or Durc.” 

Broud started gesticulating wildly as soon as Grev’s name was said, interrupting Goov for the second time that day. “No! Absolutely not. Grev is to be second-in-command to his brother, Brac.” As the rest of Goov’s sentence registered with the leader, he started to flush. “No deformed brat shall be mog-ur of my Clan or of Brac’s Clan. Why can Groob not be acolyte?” 

“Droog has claimed the boy a natural tool maker. His apprenticeship has already started.” Goov replied calmly. 

Just as Broud opened his mouth to reply- Brun’s shoulders curving preemptively in disappointment- Vorn came running in to the Clan’s temporary camp, his voice hollering the name word of his mate. “Uba! Uba!” His sharp eyes scanned the area, looking for the traveling tent that he used on long hunts. Upon sighting it, the tension in his shoulders relaxed fractionally. 

Hearing her mate call her name, Uba- who was grouped together with Oga, Ebra, Ovra and Ona at the mouth of the cave, pretending not to see the conversation of the men- looked down to see Durc cradled in Vorn’s arms, the boy’s left arm dangling limply. 

Her heart crawled up to her throat. Uba had lost her sister already today- she did not wish to lose the boy who had just been made son of her hearth as well. Her legs sprinted down the well trod path, to where she had set up their camp. “Durc! Vorn, what happened?” 

And then she spotted the skull of the Cave Bear sitting on her son’s chest. 

The hands that had been preparing to take the toddler’s body stilled, dropping to her side automatically, the action enforced by generations of Clan memories and tradition. Women were not allowed to touch the bones of Ursus, except under specific circumstances. This was not one of them. 

Vorn, upon seeing Uba still, immediately feared the worst. “Uba?” He asked questioningly, unable to ask more due to the fact that his arms were full of the son of his mate. 

“This woman must get Mog-ur.” Uba gestured absentmindedly. “And then she may examine her son.”

“No need, Uba. I will handle this.” Goov had appeared at her side soundlessly, spooking both Uba and Vorn- not that Vorn was ever likely to admit it. Goov’s eyes had been drawn by the commotion the new second-in-command had made, and had immediately spotted what he determined to be an answer to their prayers. Maybe he did not yet need to choose an acolyte. 

Or maybe Ursus had chosen for him, the way Ursus had chosen Creb to be acolyte for the mog-ur before him. Either way, Goov thought, the Cave Bear skull- while still that of a cub- would be enough to protect the Clan. 

“Brun,” Goov gestured, “Could you locate a bear skin for me? Ursus’s brother should rest on the fur of a sibling. If you could find Creb’s Cave Bear cloak, that would be preferable.” 

Brun- who had appeared at Mog-ur’s side shortly after the man arrived- nodded. Zoug stood to the man’s right, awaiting orders. Broud, who had been hanging back once he found out the commotion was about the deformed brat, furrowed his brow. Something important was happening- without him. 

“What’s going on?” Broud snapped after rudely shoving his way through Droog and Grod, who had gathered behind the three allies in an effort to understand what was going on- subtly, of course. As he shoved his way around Zoug, he stopped short at the sight in front of him. The skull of a Cave Bear cub sat upon the brat’s chest- and the leader was unashamed to admit he was disappointed the deformed toddler’s chest still rose and fell, if shallowly and slowly.

Droog and Grod had followed their leader to stand in front of Vorn and Durc. “Ursus.” Droog breathed out, hand reaching as if to touch the skull, reverently, before remembering himself and pulling his hand back with haste.

Broud scoffed upon hearing Droog’s whisper. “Ursus does not inhabit the body of cubs.” 

Goov- in a serene manner, feeling relief at what he could only interpret as Ursus providing an answer he had desperately prayed for gestured calmly, “That is definitely the skull of a cub, Broud. Grac’s Cave has a cub skull in addition to Ursus’ skull. Their mog-ur, Goag, showed it to Creb and I at the Clan Gathering before last, when they hosted it. It belonged to a sick cub they came across while looking for Ursus- it died shortly before they found him.” 

“This animal has clearly been dead for a long time. There’s no telling what it could be.” Broud gestured waspishly, knowing deep down that no one believed him, for all could see the resemblance to the Cave Bear skulls Creb would pull out for ceremonies. Broud’s body language radiated falsehood.

Brun chose that moment to appear, handing the shiny fur of a brown bear from his own hearth to Mog-ur. “For Ursus.” 

Goov nodded his head- the fur would do well. Taking a deep breath, Mog-ur made an entreaty to the mighty Cave Bear. “Ursus, we are but human, simple in the way we understand spirits. If we have angered you, we are sorry. Your people would ask you to guide us so that we may someday walk with you along the hearth fires of the sky.” 

Then, with complete reverence and concentration, Goov picked the tiny skull up before gently placing it on the fur still cradled in Brun’s arms. “Display Ursus as one would while at the Clan Gathering, Brun. He will dine with us tonight.”

* * *

As soon as the small skull was removed from Durc’s chest, Uba sprang in to action, running to her mate’s traveling tent. Ebra and Ovra followed closely behind. This was the first medical emergency Uba would face on her own, without the ugly woman who had been her sister on standby. They were both determined to offer their hands in assistance should the need arise.

“Ebra, would you set a pot of water to boil? Ovra, could you wipe the blood off him?” The young woman was in her element, it seemed, pulling oregano and garlic out of her otter medicine bag. 

Uba was pleased that Durc’s injuries were mostly limited to scrapes and cuts. The bump on his head did worry her, but there was nothing she could do for it besides keep the wound clean.

“Uba, what would happen if we didn’t find a cave before Ona went in to labor?” Ovra asked suddenly, looking up from the half Neanderthal boy to the young medicine woman. Uba pauses her vicious grinding of the garlic. 

Uba, herself, did not know the answer- but the whisper of wind at the back of her skull told her one of her ancestors did. Closing her eyes in concentration, the medicine woman replied, “We would have to camp for at least a week, so that the baby could be accepted and so that it’s totem could find Mog-ur. Usually, the leader has chosen to wait until the woman’s birthing curse has stopped before moving the journey forward.” Uba paused for a moment before continuing on, “Let us hope a cave has been found before Ona is due to give birth. We have two moons, that is plenty of time.”

* * *

While the women of Broud’s Clan attended to their duties- preparing the evening meal, taking care of the injured- Durc dreamt. 

_He dreamt of a shaking earth, enraged by the torment inflicted on one of_ Her _favorites._

_He dreamt of a golden haired woman who he thought the most beautiful woman in the history of women. He dreamt he saw her face changing from the joyous rapture, open in a noise only she made, in to a cave lioness, growling her strength to the world._

_He dreamt of the same cave lioness, chased away by a woolly rhinoceros from the only home she had ever known. He dreamt of an otter’s mournful cries, and a spirit that was both roe deer and Cave Bear all at once looking down from the stars, shaking his head in pain and disbelief. He dreamt of a bison’s regret and sorrow, an aurochs’s guilt, a dhole’s determination._

_He dreamt of a woman with red-brown hair and clear blue eyes, arm in arm with a man with golden hair and brown eyes. They waved to him, called to him in a language he did not know but desperately wanted to. The man held a small, golden haired girl in his arms. But the earth shook once more, and suddenly the man was gone, the girl was gone, the woman left with nothing but a babe whose sorrows could not be contained._

_He dreamt of a cave lioness cloaked in mammoth fur, who walked by the side of a wolf and horse as their equals. She took a cave lion as her mate; their children are just as golden and lion-like as they are._

_Finally, Durc dreamt of a Clan man before they were Clan men, and the winter that never ended. He dreamt of sheets of ice that covered the whole land, and a sun not seen in years. The man was desperate to save his family; he cared deeply for his mate, and their three young ones were the light of his life. The man wore the title of acolyte to the Mog-ur. His brother wore the title of future leader. Durc watched in slow motion as an argument raged between the two brothers, one their sisters- medicine women of high status, with magics of their own- tried to calm down. But eventually the decision was made; the acolyte would set off on his own. His mates and one of his sisters accompanied him, as did a few other people. As Durc watched the small group fade in to the distance, the acolyte turned around- and suddenly everything faded away, as the man became Ursus himself._

_”Durc,” Ursus gestured, his huge furry paws somehow lending a great eloquence to the words he spoke, “Just as_ She _is a chosen of The Mother, so are you one of my chosen. It is up to you to guide my people into the future- or they will be crushed under the weight of their own ancestry and traditions. They have stagnated.” Ursus paused- Durc could not help but to stare in awe. “Durc, the trail you are destined to will not be easy. You will walk much of it alone. But you are protected by the Spirit of Grey Wolf. He has often walked alone, and often led packs who howled at the moon. He will guide you. Have faith, child. It is his gift I bestow.”_

_At those words, Ursus dropped to all four of his paws and lumbered forward. Durc knew he should probably be afraid, but all he felt was entrancement. The Cave Bear kept walking forward until his snout gently pressed to Durc’s forehead._

_A million images flashed before his eyes, but all he could concentrate on was the pain the Cave Bear’s kiss had brought on him. Durc raised his hand to where Ursus had placed his nuzzle, and was shocked to find blood on his hand. The boy looked up accusingly at the bear, only to find the bear had gone. The former man of his hearth stood where the bear had moments before, his craggily face twisted in an expression of amusement._

_”Ursus always demands a price for his gifts, young one. There is always an obligation. Be glad it was only a little blood he asked of you.” Creb gestured, waving to his eye. Durc couldn’t help himself- he ran in to the old magician’s arms. Creb gave what passed for a chuckle among the Clan, a sort of grunting exhale. “I would love to stay, Durc, but Ursus is calling. You can trust Goov, Vorn, Brun and Zoug among the hunters- be wary of everyone else. Treat your mates kindly, for they will be a source of strength and comfort to you. Never give Broud a reason to cast you out. Stay as far away from him as possible. As Ursus said, your path will be a long and lonely one, but it is necessary, in the end.” Creb held the boy tighter, for just a moment. “And Durc? It’s time to wake up.”_

* * *

“Durc! You’re okay, it’s safe. You’re safe.” Uba let out a sigh of relief as the boy’s wide, Clan eyes opened, signaling the end of whatever fit the boy had been having. “Mother Uba?” The deformed boy croaked, straining his head to look at his surroundings.

“Shhh,” The young medicine woman breathed, pulling the boy who was now her son to her chest. “Rest, Durc. You’re safe. I will not let anything hurt you.” Uba swore, running her hand through his fine hair. After a quick examination she declared him in good health.

Eventually, Durc settled, and she placed him back on the furs, preparing to go check in on Ona, who had reported a little bit of blood today. Not as much as her woman’s curse, but still enough to worry. Uba was nearly out of the tent when Durc raised his head up weakly. “Mother Uba?”

“Yes, Durc?” 

“Who is the Great Earth Mother? And who was Duirk?”

The small buzz at the back of her skull indicated that she should know this, that a direct blood relative had experience with this topic. She followed the mental thread- and abruptly hit a wall. 

It chilled her to the bone. That had never happened before. Dark premonition sank in to her bones. Why didn’t she know about this?

She was saved from having to answer- Durc was once more asleep. It was a fitful rest, his body missing the warm golden woman who just the previous night had warmed his side and kept him safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come say hi over on my tumblr, [american-pandora!](https://american-pandora.tumblr.com/)


	4. Part I: Aftershocks | Chapter 4: Tradition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Borg asks a favor of Goov; meanwhile, Goov and Broud make an announcement to the Clan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks! Kind of a quick transition chapter. In three or so chapters, the real fun stuff should start happening. 
> 
> **warning: there are some... canon typical grey areas of consent and mate sharing in this chapter. please read accordingly.**

###### 

Part I: Aftershocks

## 

Chapter 4: Tradition

Borg approached the young Mog-ur respectfully, his head barely just bowed in deference to the holy man. Goov gave the gesture that signaled he needed a moment to the young hunter before returning to his task. 

Creb’s sole eye stared at him without seeing. The damaged part of his skull had been cleaned up, his brain scooped out and placed in a special basket, one especially made for this task. Knowledge of how to make such a waterproof basket that could withstand fire was passed carefully from mog-ur to mog-ur. Creb’s heart and liver would come next, once Goov had seen to Borg. Then, assuming the body was still relatively in tact, the top of the skull and possibly the eye. A bit of blood wouldn’t go amiss either.

“Greetings, Hunter.” Goov gave the proper salutation and address to the young man, as centuries of tradition dictated. Among the men of the Clan, titles such of these were a small way of reaffirming the pecking order, and of reassuring each other and themselves of that man’s value. It was a subtle ceremony, used only among the men- the women could never be allowed to see the men as anything but a united front. Men who were close- usually brothers, or childhood friends- often called one another by their name word in private, but the procedure had been built in to the very fabric of Clan Men’s society. All men called each other by the appropriate name word when there were women nearby.

“Greetings, Mog-ur.” Borg returned the formal greeting as Goov relaxed off his haunches, wiping his hands on his furs. Ovra had left a cup of water for him at some point during his work, his mind noted absently, as he watched the newly mated man fidget, catch himself, then start fidgetting again. “What can I do for you today, Borg?” 

“Ona is a good mate.” Borg blurted out. Goov waited patiently- his mentor had told him more times than he could remember that patience was a crucial part of being a mog-ur. When nothing followed, Goov signed, gently, “I am sure that Ona has been nothing but a credit to her mother and the man of her mother’s hearth.”

“She bleeds when I relieve my needs with her. The Medicine Woman told this Clan’s second-in-command when he asked that I may need to relieve my needs with someone else for the duration of the pregnancy.” ‘ _Uba allowed Borg to overhear the answer she gave her husband, knowing she could not tell him what to do_ ’ is silently acknowledged and appreciated by the two men. It was the way of good, proper Clan women.

Goov nodded; he had been allowed to overhear the same thing during Ovra’s pregnancies. Luckily, he did not have to relieve his needs as often as some of the other young men did- Broud wasn’t even all that young anymore, and he often needed to relieve his needs with Oga three to four times a day, even when she was heavy with child, minus that brief stint with the Woman Who Hunted. 

A quick glance at the young Hunter across from him revealed a slight pitch in the man’s furs. ‘ _Ah, his need was not completely relieved with Ona. His concern for his mate won out over his need. He is a good, considerate mate._ ’ Goov thought absently. 

“This man would normally ask the Second-to-the-Leader if he could borrow his mate...” Borg trailed off, slightly embarrassed, before picking back up, “but the medicine woman is attending to Ona. And this man would ask the Leader, but the Leader is not fond of sharing his mate. This man was wondering if he may borrow Mog-ur’s mate to relieve his need.” Borg finally finished. 

Goov made a gesture of reassurance, hoping the man would drop the formal nuance of Clan speech. “If the Mate of Mog-ur is not busy, you may relieve your needs with her. And you may continue to relieve your needs with her when she is not busy, until Ona has delivered the child.” 

Tension seemed to melt out of the young hunter’s body as Goov strode out of what had once been Creb’s hearth. “Ovra!”

Having been sorting through supplies at the mouth of the cave, Ovra answered her mate by quickly rising on steady bowed legs, only to sit cross legged at the mog-ur’s feet moments later, her head bowed. The posture of his body told her that he was in the mindset of Goov, man of the Clan, and not Goov, her mate. 

“Mate,” The holy-man signed after tapping Ovra’s shoulder, “Are you busy?”

A very faint voice in the back of her head- the same voice that warned her when she was near a wolverine, the alarm that rang in her head when she neared a deer in the woods- insisted this question was a trap. The brush of what would someday be called instinct pointed out that, as a Clan woman, she was always supposed to be busy- and she was always supposed to be available to the whims of her mate, too.

Ovra quashed that voice ruthlessly. Goov was good. He did not beat her like Broud beat Oga, or the mate of her mother, Grod, beat Uka.

“I am always available when my mate has need of me. The task I am working on is not urgent.” She answered diplomatically, daring to look Goov in the eye.

The crinkles in the corner of his eyes- the Clan version of a smile- lessened the tension in her shoulders. “Ovra, Borg’s mate Ona is being seen to by Uba, and is unable to relieve his needs for the time being. Take him to his tent and let him relieve his needs. I have told him he may relieve his needs with you in the future if you are not busy.” 

She nodded. “This humble woman is happy to assist Borg and please her mate in any way she can.” 

Dismissing the two of them, Goov returned to his task of preparing Creb for burial. He would be enshrined in the holy cave once it had been reclaimed from the evil spirits that currently ran amok in the sacred space. A pang of sadness hit the young mog-ur at the thought of leaving The Man of Ursus behind. In many ways, Creb had been more of a father figure to him than Droog had been. Goov’s lack of interest in tools had created a divide between the two that hunting only sometimes mended. Their totems were not the aurochs for nothing- the two of them were often stubborn beyond mobility, Creb used to mutter under his breath. Goov wished his brother Groob- another aurochs totem- well, and firmly ignored the small embers of envy that lived in his heart. 

Or tried to, anyway.

* * *

Brun had finally gotten a moment to rest at the Clan’s campfire when Broud called a gathering of the Clan members for the third time that day. The former leader tried not to remember the previous two disastrous meetings- the first in early morning, where Broud had angered the spirits so terribly, and the second, where the son of his mate had proven he knew nothing about leadership. 

Ebra hovered nearby, her body language portraying her nervousness. Today had been a shock for his mate, Brun knew. It was widely known that Broud had always had a bit of a temper, and been a bit brash- but he had been respected by the Clan. Very few people knew all of Broud’s fault as intimately as the man of his hearth did. An argument could be made for the Woman Who Hunted, but a woman’s opinion did not count. Many hunters wrote off Zoug’s criticism as the bitter jealousy of an old man. Ebra was not handling all of today’s revelations well- she had been at all ends of the emotional spectrum today. He had caught her staring off into the distance more than once, and been forced to cuff her twice, as she had not heeded his calls. She had even been snappish and rude with Oga a few times, and scolded Brac and Grev. 

Suddenly, silence broke out among the Clan as Broud emerged from where he had been huddled talking with Goov and Vorn. The Mog-ur wore a frown, indecision heavy on his brow, while Vorn’s body language seemed tense, like a rabbit too frightened to run and hide beneath a bush. 

“Before Mog-ur makes his announcement, I have one of my one to make.” Broud signaled. “As everyone knows, we have recently lost a member of the Clan, Creb, and someone who lived at his hearth. I just wish to remind everyone that it is _forbidden_ to have contact with the spirits unless you are mog-ur. Anyone caught speaking with spirits will become last ranked man or last ranked female.” Broud continued on, looking straight at his father and not being subtle about it in the least. Brun did not cave in or look away, despite the instinctual whisper at the back of his skull that told him he should. “Having contact with spirits can put the whole Clan in danger.” 

‘ _As can frivolously using the Death Curse, son of my mate._ ’ Brun thought tiredly.

* * *

Goov found it interesting how Broud seemed to lump Creb in with the spirit of- of _Ayla_ \- almost as though Broud was afraid of The Man Who Was The Mog-ur. But it was different- Creb was dead, and _She_ would be shortly. Creb would be buried with all the honor as was due a man of his rank and status- she would be denied that final tie to Ursus. The son of Brun had refused to even acknowledge the woman as Clan, despite her training by Iza and widespread acceptance by The Clan. The Spirit of the Cave Lion has marked her himself with his marks so they would recognize her as one of his own; yet Broud denied the spirit, and the woman.

Goov realized just in time that Broud had finished speaking and had started to turn toward him. A shiver of unease fled down his spine as he absentmindedly wondered whether or not he would get used to having all the eyes of the Clan focused solely on him. 

“As the Clan knows, we must find a new home for our totems. Before we can do that, we must entomb Mog-ur before me in the holy cave. To do that, we must remove the rocks that the evil spirits have blocked the cave off with. There is a small, child-sized entrance that would allow an acolyte to pass through and slide a leather thong through a crack. Tonight, the women must prepare a feast, not just for the choosing of the acolyte, but to welcome the brother of Ursus." Goov finished.

The women’s displeasure was immeasurable- not that they voiced it. Their body language shifted as a collective to one of despair and frustration. The young mog-ur was understanding; a vast majority of the preparations that would need to be undertaken to move caves would be done by the women.

Tradition demanded, however, and Goov complied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come say hi over on my tumblr, [american-pandora!](https://american-pandora.tumblr.com/)


End file.
